


Flowers in the wind

by MissOlineaux



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen, Romance, Soft Boys, Yukimura X Fuji if you want to see it that way but not necessarily, platonic friendship, take your pic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissOlineaux/pseuds/MissOlineaux
Summary: When the flowers scatter to the wind, there will be something to remember them by.
Relationships: Fuji Shuusuke & Yukimura Seiichi, Fuji Shuusuke/Yukimura Seiichi
Kudos: 5





	Flowers in the wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aricia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aricia/gifts).



> THANK YOU to Aricia, thanks to who I figured out what to write about them. Who told me of the differences between the two soft murdBOYS and talked with me for at least hour and a half, if not more about them.💕 I'm not even joking when I say this wouldn't have been possible without that conversation.

He had a certain innocence, in Yukimura's eyes, that made him cherish life as if he didn't have anything to lose. He played the same way he smiled, the same way he lived, as if he took the victory for granted as if peaceful and happy were just the way life was supposed to be. That didn't mean he didn't treasure life, in his own way, but he did so less fervently, perhaps, than Seiichi. Sometimes he played for real though, when he knew that he could lose, or when he simply could NOT lose. Sometimes his smile was strained or gone, his peace and happiness shattered for a moment that never lasted too long. When Tezuka left, he thought, at the beginning, that he wouldn't smile again. He was wrong, of course. And yet his way of living never changed. Unafraid. Carefree. Happy.

"Seiichi, look at me"

He already was, in someway, looking at him. The little droplets of morning dew reflexed glimpses of brown and blue, and traced softly the smile on his lips and the black of the camera hanging from his neck. But he knew that was not what he meant, so he turned around with a soft smile on his lips, only to be surprised, momentarily, by the soft shutter of the camera in the brunette's hands. He should have seen it coming, of course, but that was one of the little things he'd never get used to. Not that he disliked it, of course.

"Pretty"

He heard Fuji say, with a smile gracing his lips. That smile that seemed permanently attached to his features. He got closer to Yukimura and knelt by his side, caressing with gentle fingertips the petals of one of his newest orchids' blooms.

"They must be quite jealous, right? They are so pretty... But they'll never be quite as lovely as you"

Yukimura chuckled at what he knew was both a half-compliment and half-attempt-to-tease him. He WAS used to that, coming from the boy. He still appreciated the thought, nevertheless, for he knew there was always some truth in his words, when he said them to him. Fuji was a tease, and so was he, but they both knew the other cared about them deeply. 

"Look who's talking. I have yet to find a flower as radiant as your smile."

He countered, swiftly, as if it was the obvious answer meant to be given, without a trace of uncertainty in his voice, as if it had been on his lips since before Fuji's statement was even said out loud. As if it was just the way things were. 

That was their relationships, after all, soft bantering and compliments and trying to tease eachother endlessly. Afternoons spent amongst beautiful flowers and different branches of art. Late nights curled on the sofa over two cups of tea and bags of spicy chips watching whatever was on TV at the moment. Tennis matches where, for once, no one counted the points. And of course, the occasional plan to take over the world, as expected. Fuji would sometimes take pictures of him amongst his flowers, like today, blue hair against greens and pinks and yellows and reds. Yet that rainbow coloured field was never beautiful enough to eclipse him. Seiichi, in return, would paint him canvases in watercolours while he tended to his cacti. 'Because only watercolours could properly reflect the softness of your beauty' he had said once. To tease, of course. But he had meant it. They always meant it, when they complimented each other. When they said 'you're beautiful', 'you're smart', 'you're talented'. They covered it with flattery and teasing and pretty words. But the essence was true, and they both knew it. They understood eachother almost perfectly, being as similar as they were. But only almost.

Yukimura knew that Fuji couldn't understand his obsession with Tennis, nor why he would sometimes stare at his garden as if it was going to fade away, nor why he'd caress the inner part of his elbow, remembering still the feeling of a tube connected to his veins there. But of course, Fuji hadn't been there when he touched despair. When all the flowers in his garden died, and he felt like his life was withering away with every petal lost. And they didn't talk about it, in some unspoken agreement of not talking about anything that brought back bad memories. In their garden, they were safe. So no, Fuji wouldn't understand why he played, and smiled, and lived in such a different way from himself. As if he was constantly running out of time. As if everyday he could lose everything he had, suddenly, without a warning. He knew, vaguely, though, that there had been a time when the other had felt like he had lost everything, and that fear would probably never go away completely.

Fuji lived as if he had nothing to lose, Seiichi lived as if everything could be lost in the blink of an eye.

But, in the end, Yukimura thought, it was fine. They didn't need to understand eachother perfectly. Because they did when it mattered. When one of them had to vent, or when they wanted some alone time, when they were in a "take-out" mood, or when Mitsuki had been a jerk to Yuuta AGAIN which meant they had to plan a wonderful comeback against him, or when Sanada was being his usual mother-hen self, which meant they had both to go do something risky like mountain-climbing or swimming at night. Just to get on his nerves.

So yes, it was fine.

Because Fuji took pictures of him, and Seiichi painted him in water colours. And even when their garden was gone —all flowers scattered to the wind— there would be something to remember them by.

And even when they ran out of time, their little moments would never be lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I did NOT expect this to be my first writing attempt in this Fandom. Still, I really like it and I hope others do two. 💕


End file.
